The Mania of Tearing Seams
by Piccylo
Summary: Green Valentine Daquiri's 1st sequal. Majin Buu was fought off about half a year ago. Peace is all that can be seen on Earth, but Piccolo seems to be regressing into his malevolent nature. Perhaps merging with Kamisama had more than one sideeffect.
1. Torpid Morbid

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dragonball series, nor am I affiliated with anyone that has anything to do with the production. Promises of almost anything that pisses people off, including what I just said.  
  
This is the second sequal of Green Valentine Daquiri, which seems ironic, as this has few Romantic elements (its really a transition into the 3rd sequal). By no means is reading the first story or its first sequal necessary, but it would help you understand the OCs that are coming up later. Now, this isn't AU, at least, not in my mind. You see, I regard GT as non- existant; a fan-fiction in itself. This is because I loathe it. The whole series is an abuse to Toriyama's characters and plots! So, if you were to disregard all of GT (and the last few eps of Z), this is not AU. But if you somehow like that piece of crap, then far be it for I to keep your mind from exibiting this as AU.

* * *

Dende is a diligent Kami-sama; That goes without saying. He watches the surface from his vintage point, not fraying from his duty. He admits, however, that he'll watch his friends perhaps more than he needs to: Son Goku playing with his son, who was now coming close to his 8th birthday; Young Trunks and his father, being forced to work around the house by order of Bulma; #18 shopping while leading her little Marron about by the hand. The rest of Earth was, in general, peaceful. Sure, there's still crime and such, the Great SaiyaMan took care of most of that, and really he had little to monitor through the day.  
It became apparent to Dende, long ago, that Namekku-sei-jin tend to sleep in a certain pattern on Earth: They stay awake for about 13 days, and on the 14th day (which always ended up on Saturday) they would go to bed and sleep almost 24 hours. The only one that varied from this was Piccolo, who slept on Sunday, but could control it so that he could even sleep in a similar cycle to Humans. This never seemed like an important piece of information, at least, not before.  
The past few years, after Dende wakes, Mr. Popo would tell him about how odd Piccolo had been acting on that Saturday. It used to be little abnormalities, like pulling out a small bottle of sake or reading a book instead of training, but lately its progressed to Piccolo going back to his island to drink and smoke, even sleeping in his cave in stead of his room in the temple. Whether or not it meant anything, Dende was getting worried.  
  
"Piccolo-san!" he called to him one day, interrupting his meditation.  
Piccolo growled and stopped hovering, touching down on the ground with his feet as he unfolded them from the lotus position. "What do you want?"  
"I've just been wondering how you've been lately." Dende laughed nervously at how feeble his excuse for disturbing him sounded.  
"Is that all?" He was all ready annoyed. "That's not the best question to present to someone who meditates the whole day if you're expecting an answer. Now, do you mind?"  
Dende was almost repelled by this response, but he managed to stay fast. "Actually, Piccolo, I'm curious about how you're acting on the days that I sleep."  
"Really, can't you just ask Popo? Hell, he's always awake on Saturdays."  
"Well, that's the thing," Dende said, looking to the floor, "Popo says that you're acting weird lately. Plus, I've noticed that you've stopped using your room in the temple. Care to talk about it?"  
Piccolo was silent for a while. He didn't seem upset at Dende, nor did he ignore him and return meditating. In stead, he had the expression on his face like he might have been arguing with someone, however, the emotion didn't seem projected to anyone in particular. His eyes were closed. When this occurred to Dende, he thought, Is he arguing with himself?  
The warrior turned from Earth's god. "I have nothing to speak about. I'm going to train on the surface. I'll be busy, so don't bother me."  
  
The old Kami-sama and Neil were not easy to fool. In fact, it's getting harder and harder for Piccolo to keep any secrets from them. It seems as time passes, their minds and speech meld. Despite his best efforts on thwarting Kami-sama's personality from his own, Piccolo was acting more and more like the wrinkled Namekku-sei-jin, and he loathed it.  
When three minds are using the same body, it can really cause some complications. Piccolo didn't mind Neil's presence that much; The only change he experienced with him was a decline in drug and alcohol use. But, when he merged with Kami-sama, his behavior began to change in great measures. He seemed to have little to himself anymore. He almost always meditated: one of the few escapes he had.  
He found that he had more over time. In his sleep, he was often separate, especially since he slept on a different day then Neil and Kami- sama. His own dreams seemed to embody the desires that he had to stifle when he merged with Kami-sama and Neil, which usually ranged from bar- hopping to massacres. As time passed, these dreams would become more graphic, and his time awake would seem more stressful on his being. Quite often lately, the red seams that ran along his body would ache and burn. This only got progressively worse, along with his increasingly disturbing dreams.  
His actions on the days that the two were asleep were looking drastic to him. This seemed to be the only time that he was not held back by them, and he tried to make the best of it. However, no matter how much he did, no matter how much temporary relief that he could find, his mind still seemed to be tearing apart. Furthermore, he began blacking out. At first, he wasn't worried. He figured that he was just overdosing and couldn't remember what happened afterwards. He kept telling himself this, even after these intervals began to last the whole day.  
  
As soon as his foot tapped onto the ground, Kami-sama's voice went through his head again. "What have you been doing while we were asleep?"  
Is this really your concern, old man? Piccolo thought back. These mental arguments were annoying, but he preferred them to the ones that would become articulated, during which both (or all three) voices would come from his mouth, often leaving his throat feeling raw with the use of different beings with different vocal pitches and accents using the same vocal cords. However, the damage to his larynx wasn't as bad to him as the very fact that he looked like a schizo while doing this.  
I do believe it is, thought Neil, After all, we use the same body, and it seems that you're abusing it while we're not looking.  
Piccolo made an audible scoff. Abusing it? You know that I'm training all the time. The body is mostly mine, after all. My body was the base during both merges. Even if I was doing something that could harm it, it's still on my call.  
And what if what you're doing kills you? thought Kami-sama, If you die, so will we. Even if you can't place an exact boundary on where your existence ends and ours begins, I think it's not too off-handle to say that death is crossing the border.  
I'm not doing anything lethal, Piccolo retorted, Honestly, do you think I could perform so many damaging things in a day that I would accidentally kill myself? Or do you think that I'm actually trying to commit suicide?  
The other two voices went silent, then preoccupied themselves with more central thoughts (which were blocked from others and harder to hear) and went off to other parts of their minds, finally giving Piccolo the feeling of being alone, or as close as he could get on a weekday.

* * *

Ugh, thought sequences suck. Seems that you can't avoid awkward dialogue in this stuff. Plus, it's shorter than usual...  
Sailor Taichichi Vegeta was right: I am actually much worse than George Lucas. Even though I bragged on how GVD was my pride and joy, its 3rd sequal is the real draw (GVD is actually a prequel in my mind). That is why it ended so.. that way =p; it was really a background story to explain the happenings in the "3rd sequal". I'm evil like that. XD 


	2. A Repelling Phantasm

Disclaimer: It's in chapter one.  
  
This thing is surprisingly difficult to write. I've had to jump around and cut-n'-paste a lot. I think it's obvious by now that this is nothing (well, maybe a little) like the Romance/Humor in GVD. That is why this is marked as Horror/Angst (it's quite dark, eh?). As I said, its a transition piece, to get used to the fact that the next piece isn't all about the Piccolo/"Jin" coupling, and that it becomes more, for lack of a better word, insane.

* * *

Piccolo Daimaou always wanted his son to take over the world. He would be proud, Piccolo thought, to see me now.  
He looked at the bodies of the only people that could stand in his way: the Saiya-jin Prince, Vegita; the powerhouse, Son Goku; even his pupil, Son Gohan. The only corpse that could not be seen was Buu's fat ass, but that was only because he had to disintegrate it to keep it from coming back. He now had trophies to go along with seizing the planet. And it wouldn't end there! He was capable, he knew, of taking over a multitude of galaxies, perhaps the entire universe.  
  
When he realised that he was dreaming, he was sitting erect on his pallet, already staring wide-eyed at the cave wall. He ignored the inner queries of Neil and Kami-sama and kept his mind preoccupied with what happened in the dream, assuming, of course, that it was all a dream.  
He remembered going into a large city, which one he couldn't recall the name of. Even so, he sauntered through the back-alleys in an adept pattern. From time to time, some of the loiterers of the area would try to bother him. He remembered killing several of them, and enjoying it. He even began to seek a few of them out instead of just encountering them.  
Somewhere in this mess of murder, reality became distorted. As he left the city, he blasted a minivan, and the explosion broke into several colors that looked far more transcendental than anything he had ever seen on Earth. Looking back at it, it was probably just the way the ki reacted with the gasoline and electric, but then, in his state of mind, this showed some newfound superiority in his being. Something in the back of his mind said, "I'm finally stronger!" Than who, he couldn't recall. Son Goku, probably. Regardless, this thought spurred him to visit someone.  
It was a woman. She seemed familiar to him, but he couldn't call up her face. Even so, he could draw out every detail of the embellished, baroque wedding dress that she wore. It looked lavish in design and material, embroidery and folds everywhere. She was happy; excited. Although she seemed delighted to see him, he knew her joy was really focused elsewhere. The woman explained to him that she was about to be married, and, which seemed awkward for her, she was quite happy with her to-be husband. Piccolo relived the feeling of his heart sinking down to his belly as he remembered this, and the pallid sense didn't wane as his thoughts continued; it only worsened. The dream turned so vehemently depraved that he refused to brood over it any longer and immediately got prepared for another long week of training.  
  
"Gohan, come here!" Chi-Chi called from the living room.  
It took several calls to budge Gohan from his books since he had headphones on, listening to a CD Videl gave him. He finally poked his head out of his room. "Hai, Okaasan?"  
"I want you to take Goten somewhere while Goku and I prepare for his birthday party tomorrow," she said as she pulled some streamers from a box.  
"But... his birthday isn't until tomorrow..."  
"You'll have to take him to Capsule Corp. for a sleepover with Trunks, I guess. But don't bring him there till after six! I have some of his presents stashed with Bulma, and I don't want him finding them!"  
"All right!" As he went to go into the yard to get his kid brother, he stopped at the door and turned back to her. "Does Otousan know that he's helping with the decorations?"  
"Does it really matter if he does or not?"  
"Good point." With this, he went out and tapped the young boy's shoulder, who was sparring with his father, on the shoulder. "Hey, Goten. Let's go pay someone a visit."  
  
Piccolo barely seemed to acknowledge the brothers' existence when they came to visit. He seemed preoccupied with training, and only snapped at them that they were only bothering him with their questions. When Goten tried to sneak into the cave, he only got yelled at again. The second time he tried, Piccolo threw him into a mountain. All the while, Gohan kept asking questions.  
"And even Mr. Popo says that you're having problems!" Gohan whined, "Come on! What's going on?"  
Piccolo turned to him with a heavy grimace. "You've been talking to him?"  
"Yeah, when I went to go see you. That's how I found you."  
"He's quite possibly the oldest creature on the planet. Just because his age finally caught up to him doesn't mean I need to be bothered about it. Now leave; I'm busy."  
"You're training all the time, Piccolo-san! You can take a break to tell us what's wrong."  
Goten finally pulled himself out of the rubble (he was in pretty deep). "Yeah! You're acting meaner than usual!"  
The frustrated Namekku-sei-jin only emitted a low, threatening growl from his throat and set off from the two into his cave, screaming to the Saiya-jin youths, "Go home and bother that harpy mother of yours! Or train with that thick-skulled imbecile you call a father! I have more important things to do than converse with a teenager and his whiney brat of a brother!"  
"I can't go home right now!" Gohan yelled in from the entrance. He had a promise to keep, after all.  
"Then go to your girlfriend's house. I don't care where you go, just don't stay here!"  
"Onii-san! Let's go to Trunks' house!" Goten tugged at his gi. "Piccolo-san doesn't wanna talk anyway, and Trunks got some new toys from his mom that I wanna play with."  
Gohan heaved a sigh. It was still barely afternoon, so he couldn't bring him to Capsule Corp. yet, and Goten was banned from the houses of most of his friends for, well, being himself (he was sure that the Keeki family would be upset about the "elephant doorway" project Goten and their son had for a long time). He looked back to the entrance of the cave. "Would it be too unreasonable to let us train with you, Piccolo-san?"  
Piccolo declared, with his voice still flaring, "Just leave! I don't want to hear anymore of it."  
"You've become even more of a recluse the past few months. You wont visit anyone, even when we held that surprise anniversary party for Kuririn and #18!"  
"Do not mention marriage around me right now!" Piccolo said, almost running back out to gesture threateningly. But as soon as he realized what he said, he wanted to smack himself.  
"Huh? What do you have against marriage?"  
He had been avoiding that subject the past two weeks. Finally, when he thought he'd gotten a break after Kami-sama and Neil went to sleep for the day, Gohan comes and reminds him about it. He glared at his former pupil with a deep twist of ire. In that dream, Piccolo killed Gohan ruthlessly. He killed everyone, without pity, without remorse. In fact, he could clearly remember enjoying it, as he did enjoy tearing those ill-bred city Humans that bothered him. Again, he wondered exactly how much of it was reality. He hoped that the woman in the wedding dress was just another reverie, that the torn bits of bloodied satin were just some nocturnal illusion and not tangible byproducts of his actions.  
Again, he tried push off the pair from his training, but Gohan had already witnessed the slight contour of pain on the green face. He was determined to hold fast and question it until an answer was affirmed.

* * *

That, umm... "nocturnal illusion" was an allusion I used that.. sorta hints at the dream. Looking back, I should have made the epilogue to GVD two chapters long. First off, it seemed rather condenced. Secondly, the reviews would have been funny if I ended the first half of the epilogue after Hina-chan said that Jin was her mother.  
And to any new readers that might be "wingin' it" without reading the GVD beforehand: The A/Ns will rarely make sense. 


	3. Demolished Equanimity: Part 1

Disclaimer: CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCChapter One.  
  
I keep forgetting that this is a horror and not a comedy, and I keep getting these unusual blocks in my writing. Not huge things that sit on the piece that says "WRITER'S BLOCK" in big bold lettering, but something that looks a little more like tempered glass. (And Keeki is, indeed, cake.) Now, be prepared, kiddies. This chapter is about the dream Piccolo had, which may be a little lewd for some of you early-sleepers depending on the next important decision that I will make right now. Let's see... Heads: a lemon rind; Tails: not. flips coin Weeeell, guess where it landed.

* * *

The whole room looked bright and sunny; warm and white. It didn't match it's owner at all. She didn't notice Piccolo's entrance until he spoke. She looked up from the mirror with a kind of delight that was so unlike her. She must have been a beautiful woman, because the dress fit her curves so well, and the make-up she wore accented her features. But he didn't really see her.  
"It's been a long time," she said to him. She smiled happily and grabbed him by the hand. "Are you staying for the ceremony? Please say that you will. You should be there at the reception, too. The drinks that we're having are really out of this world."  
Piccolo felt unable to answer for a few moments. Though he felt heartbroken for some reason, he was mostly estranged by the odd joyful fluctuations in her voice. Somehow, it didn't seem natural for her words to sound so nectareous. At length, he said, "The man that you're to marry is strong, then?"  
She nodded. "Very. You should meet him later. His name is Kenturion- sama." The woman continued primping herself in the mirror. "I really didn't expect him to best me in combat, but, I suppose, things come in to change one's world for the better, eh?"  
"If you say so..." Piccolo looked down to the floor.  
When the silence fell a little too uneasily, she looked from her glass. "Hey, what's wrong? You're acting as if you don't know me anymore."  
"I'm not sure if I do..."  
"Eh?! Hey, I know that it's been a long time, but you knew it was me, and I knew it was you! How can you say that you don't know me anymore?"  
"Y-you're acting so different," he uttered with a forceful undertone, "You used to be viperous."  
"So, I grew out of my rudeness over the years.  
"That's not what I mean!" He grabbed her by the wrists. "You're supposed to be malign and unyielding! Stark and serpentine! What's wrong with you?!"  
"Please stop!" Her head turned, her eyelids clenched as if she was in pain. "There's nothing to be so upset about."  
"I can't accept that you're whole demeanor changed. You're whole life... it looks wrong!"  
"My life is about to change! I'm supposed to get married today! Please, let me go!"  
She struggled in a light revolt, but he only gripped her wrists more and pushed her against the wall to prevent her from squirming so much. "Everything you just said; it doesn't make any sense coming from you! You would never allow yourself to change for any matters before. To let you go like this, when you ask with such passivity--"  
"Help! Kenturion-sama!" She was now screaming, trying hysterically to flee, but her shouts were cut short when he blocked her mouth with his own. She tried to shrink away, but she found that it only lead her to crumble down to the floor against the wall. Piccolo would not let go; in fact, he followed her to the floor and only pressed more into her. She was trapped.  
By the time he would lift some from her, she had stopped momentarily with her strain to escape. "That woman..." he began bitterly, "That woman I fell in love with... She has to still exist somewhere in here..."  
"W-what are you doing?!" Her voice showed some annoyance along with fear as Piccolo kissed down her neck. "Please! I'm supposed to be getting married today, damnit!"  
When Piccolo let go of her wrists, they only dropped to her sides, upon the span of her skirt, allowing him mobility to rip the pearly, embroidered front down to the v-shaped seam where the torso ends and the hip begins. She gasped to the sound of tearing fabric and tried to cover up her breasts in reflex, but, somehow, he was stronger, and he pushed her arms away from her bosom. "I came here for you, but it wasn't enough that someone else had gotten here first. No, he somehow had to change you into this!"  
Her shoulders rolled up in a sort of disgust when he kissed the leaner parts of her chest about her collarbone. He grabbed her right breast roughly, which effect a sharp breath from her. She managed to bring a harsh backhand across his cheek, giving her enough opening to wriggle from his grasp. However, she didn't make much of an escape, as he soon caught her again, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back, her grasping hand still reaching for the doorknob.  
He sat her on the bed and arrested her in his own embrace, but she was still determined to keep faced away from him; as much as he tried to turn her body towards him, she stubbornly would yank herself back. Piccolo took delight to this. Her very disposition, though still frightened and coy, was becoming more austere with anger. However, he thought, she needs to be provoked even more if she is to return. With this, he seized her left breast with great assault.  
She made a short scream of pain, but more importantly, her defence weakened, and he pushed her down upon the covers. Securing her hands again, he stroked his tongue across her nipples and bit them assiduously, causing them to become purple with tumescence and bruising. She writhed under him, as if in some travail, overturning the covers and revealing the silken sheets underneath that were the shade of dried blood. "This is a recent change, isn't it?" he declared, "These sheets match you better than this puffy, pastel thing on top. Should you really wed when you must pretend so much for it?"  
"Is that any of your business?" she hissed.  
"I do believe that hasn't stopped me yet." He spit her skirt clear in half and removed any fabric that might obstruct his activities. She made a few more futile cries (which were more and more splenetic) before he pervaded her vulva. It wasn't until she finally mustered enough gall to punch him in the stomach and force him off that he realised what kind of gore and battery he had put her through.  
The dress was completely slashed and stained. Her blood was leaking out of the bite marks and other tears on her swollen flesh, but not as horridly as a blotch on the cloth clinging to her side that grew slowly. He must have reopened some sort of wound.  
Before he could react to the horror that was seeping in, she fumbled away and nearly crashed into a desk. She immediately threw off the white drape upon it, showing a black-wood table, adorned with skulls, and scrabbled through the drawers. There was such a frantic energy still going through her that Piccolo felt an obligation to comfort her somehow (even though he knew it would be pointless now) and moved towards her.  
He soon found her eyes, burning with ire, and her knife, lodged into his chest.  
The expression she had wansn't unlike her anymore. In fact, he had seen that very face before, but he couldn't recall when. Apparently, though the anger and need to strike back was authentic, the action she took was not what she intended, and she stepped back, her eyes wide as water began to pool in them. "I...no, that's..." She backed away, and tripped upon one of the objects that fell on the floor while she searched for a means of defence. She grabbed one of the hanging, white linens on the wall to keep herself from falling, unveiling the frescos of battle fields and dancing skeletons, as well as the great collection of large weapons hanging on fixes or propped against the wall upon the ground. It was one of the latter that she fell upon: a heavy battle ax that was a meter wide at least, and a hand thick. The edge of the blade met right with her back, giving a grizzly sound as it hit the flesh and bone. A short sound came from her mouth, and a slight jerk went through her body, then she was frozen.  
For a while, the only movement was her blood flowing down the metal and her tears flowing down her cheeks. Piccolo had all but forgotten about the shiv in his torso when a knock came to the door. "Is my lass almost ready?" called a firm voice.  
Piccolo went for the window and out onto the ledge beside it, trying to steady his breath as the door opened. There was a mortified swear, followed by shouting for assistance. The news of the Lady's death didn't take long to reach the entire grounds.

* * *

-snort- Sorry. You know, if someone else wrote this, I probably wouldn't read it. Or maybe I would. I donno. Anyway, writing a rape scene without it turning puerile is difficult (that's why it was so many days before I put this chapter out, and why there's more big words then usual =P). This "story" all ready had an attempted rape, and although this one isn't a real rape (it's a dream), I still have doubts if I want to do another rape scene. But, I would have to if I wrote the Mebana prequel. So... still no takers? lol 


	4. Demolished Equanimity: Part 2

Disclaimer: Chapter One. Go there.  
  
Yeah, the dream's not over, by the way; just the most disturbing/wrong/maybe stupid part. Di-ffi-cult stuff. At least it was scary. Anyway, I suppose it wouldn't do any damage to say that the woman sorta is Jin, but since he knows that she was wearing a ring to hide her looks, he didn't really put a face or name on her.

* * *

Piccolo was reluctant to move from the ledge, but he knew that it would be searched soon enough and lept down. As he touched ground, a sort of movement, like that of a solid object, caught his attention. He finally remembered the knife, still stuck in his ribs, and tugged at it to pull it out. When it finally gave way, he was surprised at the lack of blood loss from the wound. Trying to peer inside it, it looked as if it was immediately cauterized as soon as the blade hit. She must have used her ki when she stabbed me, he thought.  
It seemed that the whole organ that was hit, which, relative to the position, must of been his heart, had been punctured and burned away. Even so, he didn't feel all that bad, past the pang of regret he had for what caused it. It went so wrong, so fast, he thought, How could this have happened? Through all my meditation, is my willpower still that inept?  
He covered the hole with the cowl of his cape and dodged off into the gardens. He tried to act as nonchalant as he could, but as the minutes passed, the people around him were getting news of the murder, and the air around him gained hostility quickly, so he shifted off into a grove and sat below a tree, trying to give his mind enough space to think.  
What should I do now? Probably... I should leave before I am found. I imagine that it wouldn't be too difficult to find out that it was me. His thoughts continued thus until a firm and steady word came from above him. "You. You're a Namekku-sei-jin, aren't you?"  
He looked up to see a tall, muscled man, accoutered in an armor that put Piccolo in the mind of something between a samurai and a Roman soldier. Though the plates looked heavy and complicated, they seemed to be more decorative than practical, and his long hair looked more clean than what a warrior would normally be seen in. "Are you Kentorion-sama?"  
"I am. You must not be from these parts to not have that knowledge all ready." His eyes narrowed and he knelt down before Piccolo, glaring with a searing stare. "I suppose that you have heard of my bride's recent demise?"  
"I..y-yes I have," Piccolo stuttered out. It wasn't the ireful state of the militant before him that made him so abashed, but the event he reminded him. As much as he wanted to indulge in denial and forget it, it proved that no one else would allow such a luxury.  
"You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?" The solid vox sounded, gaining more of an incriminating strain with each syllable.  
After a delay, Piccolo finally responded, "More than I would like."  
"And what, exactly, is it that you do know? Prey tell."  
Piccolo looked the man straight in the eye. "Everything."  
Dead air. "I see." Kentorian stood erect and pulled out a sword from his hilt. Though his guard mail might be largely ceremonial, the blade was definitely made for fighting, and the gleam that it shown from the streams of light that came through the treetops made Piccolo squint. The point was aimed at Piccolo's throat. "If you are the killer, then," Kentorian continued, "Are you resigning your fate to my hands? Do you wish to repent that badly?"  
"Repent? I suppose you could say that." Piccolo rose as well. "But, to tell the truth, I have no interest in surrendering to the likes of you."  
"Nani?!" The soldier's ki flared and he raised his edge high. "You're insolence shall be cut down now, butcher! You shall perish by the hands of the strongest swordsman in the--" He was cut off by Piccolo, who bashed his fist into the armored side.  
"You talk too much," he said, now with his back turned to his adversary, "I don't see what she saw in you that would allow herself to change like that, but just because you can best her in combat, do not expect to apply the same with me."  
It didn't take much to infuriate the already agitated ex-bridegroom. In no time, he was taking hateful swings at the Namekku-sei-jin. But these swings were slow with all the anger being concentrated in them, and Piccolo dodged them without much bother.  
Kentorian took a cruel upward slash that Piccolo narrowly escaped. Surely, if it hit him, he would have been severed in two. But, alternately, he caught Kentorian in a vulnerable state from taking the offensive, and took his call. The very dagger that was stabbed into Piccolo's ribs found way to be buried into Kenturion's own breast. The soldier staggered backwards, shocked that he was dealt such a blow. He fell.  
Trailing the moment the metal and leather plates hit the ground, the hole which gaped under the white drape of Piccolo's outfit began to itch and gain the sensation of being... filled. He lifted up the loose cowl to show that, indeed, the wound had somehow healed. Piccolo didn't seem greatly surprised. However, his ambition seemed to be reborn.  
  
Piccolo returned to Earth (or whatever his normal surroundings should be called, considering he didn't think that the place he was previously was Earth), and set off to an old task immediately. First and foremost, he thought, is to get rid of all the roadblocks. This shouldn't be a problem, as long as I don't get them after me en masse, but I can't afford to do it one at a time.  
The plan didn't take much to set. He simply made a big deal over some debris in the mountain woods near Son's house, which roused Goku and Goten out, and put Gohan on the phone to get the others.  
The conjecture that the detritus was an alien ship seemed to get them up in arms enough to make the method plausible. Before Gohan or any others got there, Piccolo took short work of the child and his long-time arch- rival, decapitating them both with Kentorian's blade in less than a split second. He left Goku's body where it lie and threw the head off about a hundred meters, then quickly buried Goten under the roots of a large tree before hiding himself.  
As the others arrived, the scene was nothing short of hilarious to Piccolo. While normally he would feel partially sympathetic to Gohan when put into such a distress, he really had quite a problem of keeping his laughter rising up as he saw the emotional display of horror and anguish Gohan exhibited when he found the topless trunk of his late father. Trunks took little time to wander off in search of his friend, which made him the next victim. He fell down in three or four separate pieces, leaving life in about the same fashion as the last two: saw it too late.  
This time it was Vegita in the center of the dispairful caterwaul (not that Kuririn and Yamcha weren't all ready giving their share, but Vegita's own demonstration was, in itself, a high-light of the day). The prince was obviously mustering up every ounce of his willpower and angered lashing to keep himself from weeping over the corpse of his son, which proved to be rather futile.  
Gohan actually found his brother's body, which went against Piccolo's intentions, but it didn't really harm the plan. They continued to search the area, hoping to find signs of their Namekku-sei-jin friend or the bastards that offed their allies. How capricious that they're one in the same. Kuririn was next with a slit throat, setting #18 off in her own hysterics. Tenshinhan and Chouzu arrived about then, but they never made it to the rest of the group.  
It became undeniable that they would be cut down if they didn't call for more assistance. Gohan ran back to call the last resort: Buu. Piccolo knew that Gohan held off calling him in the first place because if his little girlfriend heard, she would willingly involve herself as well. Vegita was to go back to Capsule Corp. and inform Bulma that she needed to begin the hunt for the Dragonballs again: he didn't get very far. And poor #18 was left all by herself... for a little while.  
Gohan came back and soon lost it. Though he was used to intense fighting and even death, the sight of body parts hanging everywhere seemed a bit more than his stomach could handle. Buu didn't take long to get there, and, sure enough, Videl was there, too. She nearly fainted; Buu didn't seem sure that he left his room. Piccolo decided that the charade went long enough at this point and came out from his hiding in the bush. The first thing he did wasn't to acknowledge the teenagers (and blob) with deceit or a threat, but pile up the bodies that he scattered about in one area.  
"Piccolo-san! You're all right!" Gohan ran to greet his old trainer, and his gut was sliced open. He toppled backwards. "Piccolo-san... you...?!"  
"You bastard!" The girl took into attack quickly.  
"Videl, no!"  
It took little effort for him to break her neck in half. Buu finally realized that Piccolo was doing mean things and went after him himself. Piccolo rose a hand and blasted him into oblivion. "All that's left," Piccolo muttered, then pointed the sword straight at Gohan.  
"W-why...?"  
"Somehow, ruling the world seemed to be a priority again." He cut him down.  
Piccolo Daimaou always wanted his son to take over the world. He would be proud, Piccolo thought, to see me now. 


	5. Hantoparu Ganab Siolofajih

Disclaimer: I strapped it down with leather bonds in Chapter one. (how's that for a disturbing image?)  
  
More jumping, cutting, and pasting! The entrance to this chapter was originally for the 3rd, but then I thought, "I'll make that whole damn chapter a flashback chapter. Hell, it's better than jumping from consciousness to consciousness." Then it turned into 2 chapters. Oh well.  


I WISH ITALICS WOULD WORK FOR .DOCS!

* * *

Piccolo would not acknowledge Gohan's inquisition; he refused. Goten wasn't oblivious to the rising hostility, either, and continued his own attempts to convince his big brother to forget about it and go somewhere else. But Gohan would not budge. His friend and martial arts trainer was definitely disturbed about something, and he felt that it was his obligation to do whatever he can to help.  
Still, no words seemed to come across. Piccolo only returned to his cave and refused to recognize him. In fact, he didn't even need effort to ignore him; his mind was all ready absorbed into that damned dream. In it, he killed Gohan without remorse. Indeed, that wasn't what bothered Piccolo at all. It was the beginning of the dream. That woman--, he thought, I knew her, didn't I? But I couldn't call up a face... or a name...  
Gohan went as far as taking Piccolo by the shoulders and shaking him. Finally aware of his true surroundings, the startled Namekku-sei-jin gave his pupil a bewildered look before he answered. "G-Gohan! What are you doing here?"  
"Eh? Piccolo-san, there really is something wrong! I've been here over an hour, trying to get you to talk to me! Don't you remember?"  
Piccolo put his palm to his brow and shook his head. "Of course. What the Hell was I thinking?" He took a slow stride out the cave again. "I just... need to clear my head. That's all." A form appeared before him as he rose his eyes towards the horizon. "Masaka..."  
The figure, bearing a wide and wicked grin, signaled for him to be quiet.  
"Piccolo-san!" Gohan yelled, coming out himself, "Will you tell us what's going on?"  
"I've been training too hard. That's all." He turned to face the teenaged Saiya-jin. "Some rest will do well, I suppose. However, I'd still prefer to rest alone."  
Gohan looked uneasy towards the situation placed before him. There was definitely something wrong with Piccolo, especially if he had trouble hiding it, and he wasn't sure if he changed his mood so suddenly just to make him think that he was all right so that he would go away. With his conflicting thoughts, he stretched his arms casually behind his head (in the same manner that every Son male tends to do). As he did, he noticed the time that the watch on his wrist displayed. It was all ready 6:37. I've been bothering him for hours all ready, and it's time to bring Goten to Capsule Corp, Gohan thought, Maybe this is a situation that should be left well enough alone. He is the most rational one out of us, anyway. It's not like he's going crazy. "I'll see you later then, Piccolo-san! I think Goten wants to go see Trunks now."  
"You think, Onii-san?" Goten laughed in his usual childish mirth when he heard this. Gohan bit his farewell and flew off, with his little brother, towards West Capital, his last errand before he would have to help Chi-Chi with the party decorations himself.  
After they had left, Piccolo turned to the being (or lack there of). "What are you doing here?"  
"A fine way to greet your father, isn't it? It's been several years since we last had a real talk, hasn't it?"  
Piccolo groaned and sat on a rock. "And as far as I can remember, you never came to me while I was awake. Am I just delusional?"  
"A bit, to tell the truth. But my appearance here is not without it's purposes. I hope you don't mind getting orders from your old man if it means getting well again."  
"Depends on what the 'orders' are."  
The old Daimaou nodded. "Of course. First, I have to explain some things to you. Mind you, these aren't pretty. In fact, I'm quite relieved that I'm all ready dead so that you can't kill me. Anyway, to begin with, you have something that we Namekku-sei-jin call 'Hantoparu Ganab Siolofajih'."  
"'Mania of Tearing Seams'? What the Hell do you mean by that?"  
"It's a condition," he answered, "that arrises when a Namekku-sei-jin merges with one or more other Namekku-sei-jin. It's not common as the conditions for it are rather rare. Unfortunately, you matched into all the necessary variables for it. You see, just merging with that man Neil wouldn't have caused it, but his presence didn't help with Kami-sama-"These words he spat. "-joined you guys. You see, the situation must be rather peculiar, and the spirits between you two is where most of the complications come."  
"Spirit. Not spirits. We have only one between us, remember?"  
"Ah! That's where you're wrong, my son. I didn't spontaneously create you. You were, more or less, all ready there. I mearly locked away your true spirit somewhere in your mind and replaced it with my own. This way, I am able to contact you and was able to leave information behind, as well as start you off with a good energy boost and a really fast growth spirt."  
"So then... this is all stress that I'm experiencing? I thought as much, but--"  
"This condition isn't only harmful psychologically, and it can go to much harsher scales." The playful look he had turned serious. "If it isn't rectified, it will become lethal. And it's not a painless demise. Do you know what it means by 'Ganab', son?"  
"Seams. I know my native tongue."  
"Seams, yes, but you know which seams? Though they can refer to seams in welding and whatnot, it's talking about these seams." He pointed to one of the red lines that run on his own arm. "In 'Hantoparu Ganab Siolofajih', the victims have a combination of built up stress and frustration between them, working with the constant desire to be independent again. Normally, such energies wouldn't build up to so much tension, but your situation made this tension too, for lack of a better word, thick to escape from your entity as time passes. Soon, the pressure will be too great on the multiple spirits, and they'll involuntarily move to split from each other. However, because of the state of mind you will be in, and the circumstances caused by your merging with Kami-sama, you won't become seperate entities; you'll, literally, be ripped apart."  
Piccolo was silent for a long period. "And how do I keep this from happening?"  
"The only solution is to disjoin properly before if happens. The problem with this is that merged, full spirit of mine and Kami-sama's. You knew, even before you did this, that it was permanent. And now, since you merged with him after you merged with Neil, you're all three locked in."  
"So, I'm just supposed to sit here and wait for death?!" Piccolo stood quickly, an angered current running in him.  
"Now, if that were the case, would I not have instructions for you to clear it up? I still have some more to tell you before we get to that. Getting into the more touchy issues--"  
"Like telling me that I'm practically doomed to die a painful death is a comforting one..."  
"Well, this is to do with your dream."  
A pause. "I'm listening."  
"I caused it. Purposely."  
"You WHAT?!"  
"This is why I'm glad that I'm all ready dead." The elder sighed. "Look, all I did was tell you, after you blew up that van, that you were 'finally stronger'. Consciously, you have no fucking clue who the Hell that is. But, you're subconscious picked it up immediately. This spurred on your little nightmare."  
"And why did you do this?"  
"You needed some way of blowing off that steam and trying to get back to equilibrium. Unfortunately, it was the best thing I could do at the time without pulling out the last move before you leave."  
"'Last move'? 'Before I leave'? Perhaps you should explain these things before you just blurt them out."  
"Actually, we should get started on your next phase instead of jabbering on any more about it. It's off to North Capital, my son!"

* * *

Old Piccolo did a lot of talking in this chapter. I guess I went off on a psychologist tangent. (I dally in that stuff quite a bit, so it slips in my writing a lot. All hail Freud!!)  
To be truthful, I didn't keep up with much more Stephen King than my mom had around. I should say, though his short stories are pretty good, his books and movies can be predictable. So, if it seems anything more like Mr. Horror Fiction Writer of Maine, it's coincidence. 


	6. The Initial Mark

Disclaimer: Chapter 1.  
  
Hmmmmm............... Okay... if I've been saying that people who -didn't- wanna read "Green Valentine Daquiri" first can get through this fic relatively fine... I apologize for your confusion. Both earlier and coming up. (I don't really care, but an apology seems appropiate)

* * *

"Hey, Goten," Trunks called from the floor of his room, holding some sort of automation that kicked its plastic legs as he held it, "You're birthday's tomorrow, isn't it?"  
"Yeah." Goten lounged with his legs crossed, looking at the ceiling.  
"Then how come you're not acting like it?"  
"Huh?"  
Trunks turned his head to his friend. "You're bein' all quiet and stuff. You not afraid of getting old, are ya?"  
"I'm not afraid of anything!" Goten sat up quickly to shoot a mean glare. "..Except Okaa-san when she's angry."  
"Anyone in their right minds would fear your mom. But seriously, why are you being so shut up? You thinkin' about somethin' important?"  
"Hmm...sorta. Me and Onii-san visited Piccolo-san before we came here. He was actin' really strange. At first he wouldn't talk to us; he'd just scream at us to go away. He even threw me into a mountain."  
"That's not too strange for Piccolo. He does stuff like that all the time."  
"But at some point, he sat down and got reeeeaaaally quiet. He wasn't meditating, either. For a bit, he looked like he was gonna cry or somethin' like that. Onii-san was too busy trying to get him to answer to notice. Then, all of the sudden, he snapped out of it and was surprised that Onii- san was there."  
"Piccolo?! Cry?!" Trunks held an expression of disbelief on his face. "He never cries! Even Mama said that Papa cried more often than Piccolo."  
"I said 'looked like'!"  
"How would you know what it looks like if you never saw him do it!"  
"'Cause his eyes were all shiney like there were tears in them an' stuff."  
He blinked. "Seriously?! Was it just because you guys wouldn't leave?"  
"I don't think so. The last thing he said before he stopped talking was something like 'Don't mention marriage around me'."  
"Huh? Where'd that come from?"  
"Onii-san said something about the anniversary party for Kuririn-san and #18-san."  
"Hmmm... I know!" Trunks snapped his fingers. "Piccolo liked a girl, but she wouldn't marry him because he was green!"  
The younger Saiyaling raised a brow. "You think so?"  
"Why else would he say that?"  
Goten looked down to his thumbs as he twiddled them. "Okaa-san said once that Piccolo-san had a girlfriend."  
"H-huh?! You have to explain that!"  
  
The car was doing pretty good time, considering the rain and the increasing dark The chauffeur glanced at the rearview mirror. "We will reach North Capital shortly, Keshou-san. Where, particularly, is it that you wish to go when you get there?"  
"I'm still undecided on whether I should go visit my family," the woman in the back said to her employee, "or to turn in for the night. What do you think, Nition?"  
"Well, it seems that you should give your brother some warning before coming. After all, you've often commented on how busy he was. And as for your daughter..."  
The woman nodded. "Yes... Uwaki is probably not even at her own apartment right now." She sighed and leaned back. "I don't understand it. The girl is in her mid-30's and she still insists on acting like a fresh co- ed! Often, I think I've failed her as a mother..."  
"That's quite a harsh thing to say of yourself, Keshou-san. I'm sure you raised her as well as you could."  
"I just keep thinking that maybe if I had delayed the divorce or something, she wouldn't turn out so maladjusted... She blamed our divorce on herself..."  
"All children do that! In time, they realise it's has nothing to do with them. And it's better to divorce than have her grow up in an angry home, isn't it?"  
"I suppose so..." The woman became silent for a moment, before immediately taking a cheery mood. "For someone so young, Nition, you're quite wise! Why, you're lecturing an old woman!"  
Nition laughed. "Fifty-six isn't so old, Keshou-san. And you look more like you're pushing you're 30's. Everyone says that you aged rather gracefully."  
She looked out the windows to the abounding lights that beamed around through the rain and darkness. "North Capital is always so lively!" She sat up so that she could see the people on the sidewalk. "So bright and colorful!"  
For a moment, they went past the gapway between two shut-down buildings. A man, mostly covered by shadow, seemed to stare at them through the tinted windows.  
Nition gulped involuntarily. "The alleys are still dark, though."  
  
"Did you feel... something familiar about that limo?" The old Daimaou brought from his son's eyes trailing the vehicle.  
"Something..."  
"You know, subconsciously, that it has something to do with why you're here. You're mind is still pretty sharp, even though you're losing it."  
"A fine thing to tell your son."  
"Indeed. Now, let's go to the next phase, shall we?" The translucent figure already started walking off.  
"What is the 'next phase?" Piccolo followed his father into the deeper shadows of the alleyway. "Shouldn't I know?"  
"My son, you have to fulfill the need of violence that exists in your true spirit to the greatest extent. In this case, it isn't quantity that will do it, but quality."  
"That doesn't really answer my question..."  
"It will when you see the first target."  
  
The man staggered towards the entrance of the bar, each arm around a girl that had to be ten years younger than he.  
"Mr. Rushu, out of all the men that I've been around, you have to be the one who knows the most about having fun," a blonde, scantily clad in purple, cried.  
"That's right," said the pink-haired girl to his right, "Things do get better as they get older!"  
"I'm glad that I'm not the only one who thinks that way! People underestimate the benefits of extended bachelorhood." He grinned to each of them and moved to open the doors and step out.  
They looked up to the shrouded sky as rain plummeted down on them. The girls squealed and hid themselves as well as they could under their small frocks.  
Rushu grinned to each of them. "Don't worry." He took off his jacket and shirt and handed one to each, rather proud of his "chivalry", "that just means we have to continue our little party at my place!"  
"Oh, you're always so smart, Shuran!"  
"That's why you're so much better then those inexperienced little boys!"  
"Of course!" Shuran roared with laughter as he commenced to bringing his little tarts home to his apartment. As he walked down the grey sidewalk, the pounding rain kept him unaware that he was being followed.

* * *

Keshou - makeup. Some of you might be able to see where this is going, and are probably cheering. You noticed that I gave those OCs from GVD surnames. Laziness kept me from doing so eariler, but the necessity to light on these characters in a more serious and centralized light spurred me to do so now.  
TY for pointing out the error... I hate typos that can get past spell checks...  



	7. The Fractures to the Lush

Disclaimer: Go to chapter one if you're so smart!  
  
I've been lazy as of late. I believe it has to do with all the Japanese DB I've been watching. Btw, its nice to see that some of my other fans are still alive. (And yes, I am female. And, indeed, if I were male, I'd be gay.) lol And, no, he doesn't have the ring with him. But he has something better. -snicker-

* * *

Taifu regretted not registering in the hotel beforehand, but she didn't really know too long before she set off that she would be going to North Capital. "Yes, that will be one room for Miss Keshou Taifu," she passed him her credit card and ID, then turned to her driver, who seemed to be leaving. "Won't you be needing a room, Nition?"  
He looked back at her with a nervous smile and scratched his head. "No thanks, Keshou-san. I'll be staying with my girlfriend tonight. She happens to live here in North Capital."  
"Oh, I see." She giggled a bit and shooed him off with her gloved hand. "Best to keep in touch, then. You'll call and give me your address and number when I need you, I hope?"  
"Yes, ma'am. Have a good evening." He bowed and set out.  
"Now," she directed towards the bellhop, "Will you show me to my room?"  
"Hai." He picked up her bags. "This way, please."  
  
"Sugoi! You can afford a Jacuzzi in your room?" one of the girls exclaimed when she saw the whirling, bubbly pool.  
"That's right." He grinned widely. "But it's not a luxury that I ever intended to enjoy alone, if you know what I mean."  
They both made cries of delight and shed their apparel down to some useless strips of cloth that they called underwear before jumping into the bath. Shuran smiled to this and went to make the girls some drinks in his little private bar. Of course, these girls didn't know that this wasn't actually Shuran's apartment. This was a rouse that he and a friend managed to set up. Whenever a room (particularly, a good one) became left behind by the owner for whatever reason, Shuran would take residence with a copy of the room key until it was sold again. It wasn't as if he was penniless (in fact, he could probably afford the place) but he had legal matters draining him more than he needed already.  
He grabbed a few glasses and proceeded to pull out various liquors.  
  
"What the Hell does he think he's doing?" Piccolo glared through the window at the man mixing drinks.  
His father raised a brow as he looked himself. "It appears to me like he's making three Dirty Martinis."  
"I noticed that! But he obviously has no clue how to mix a martini! Look! He can't even strain them into the glasses! He's just pouring!" Piccolo turned to the older Namekku-sei-jin. "And why is this idiot my 'first target'? I'm sure it's not just because he's a fucking moron."  
He scoffed. "No... but practically. Did you know that you actually have a list in that mind of yours of who you want to kill the most? He's number two."  
Piccolo glanced at the man again, who was even struggling with putting in the olive juice. "Number two? I don't remember him at all..."  
"I'm not surprised. It's been several years, and your not exactly mentally stable right now. I bet you can't guess who number one on the list is."  
There was a pause. "Son Goku?"  
Another laugh. "No, but admirable that you said that so quickly. As it stands, you still cannot best him in battle. You'll be glad when you see who it is you'll kill next; trust me." Before his son could say anything further, he passed into him, causing an unusual glow to appear over his skin.  
"Wh-what are you doing?"  
"Making things a little more interesting."  
  
"All right, ladies! I hope that I didn't keep you wait--" Shuran's polished prattle stopped abruptly when he saw the bashed-in window, and the soaked girls cowering behind the furniture.  
"I have to kill you..." an amused voice while it's speaker walked out into clearer sight, "...but I'm not quite sure on how I want to do it."  
Shuran growled at the anonymous man, and immediately grabbed the closest object before running to swing it at the perpetrator's head. His arm was only grabbed before the lamp came in contact with its intended mark. It was at this time when he realised that he knew the burglar.  
"I have the idea that I want to make it a slow, painful demise, but how to go about it..." the man continued, then started to crush the limb in his hand.  
Rushu gave a shout before he was released and allow to retreat a few meters. "That uniform..." he mumbled, "That's the bartender's uniform for that pub..."  
Piccolo picked up a letter opener from a table, not paying any mind to the fact that his reflection in the mirror above was not that of a Namekku-sei-jin in a white cape and turban, but a Human in a vest and dress shirt. He smirked and made a quick advance towards Shuran, slashing deep into his left shoulder. The pitiful Human gave another yell as he clenched his wound with his right hand and fell back. The assault continued thus; quick, precise attacks that often left gashes, and all wounds afflicted were deliberately away from any vital areas. Piccolo was truly only torturing him.  
He must have gotten bored of the little knife, as he threw it away with little concern and seized Shuran by the hair. He lifted him to level with his face, then kneed him in his already hemorrhaging abdomen and threw him up a bit more to punch him directly between the cheekbones. This action threw him out the window onto the metal bar on the room's balcony. Shuran twisted to try to get another good look at whoever was doing this to him, and found one of the meter-tall gargoyles that decorated the outside of the building tossed upon him, pinning his legs against that balcony fence. He felt that he was in the worst position: trapped and bleeding while weakness forced him to lean back over the hundred-story drop. As Piccolo came closer with his dark leer, Shuran finally seemed to be able to fit a name to that face. "Be-Berumo--"  
He was cut off by death. Piccolo had given one good punch down on his ribs, and since he was trapped and leaning back from the balcony guard, the force snapped his spine clear in two. He now hung lifeless like a broken puppet, blood still dripping from him into the street.  
  
Bulma closed the door to Trunks' room and heaved a sigh of relief. It's still very hard to make her son go to sleep, and when he has a friend over, it's even more difficult. To top this off, she had just finished the designs to some new capsules and building the base prototypes. She was now only happy that the night was over for her and she can finally go to bed herself. A yawn came from her and she stretched to get any left over kinks out of her shoulders from sitting and leaning over papers and machine parts for so long.  
As she pulled herself up the stairs, she groaned when she remembered the meeting scheduled the next morning. She had to meet the director of an affiliate company at 9:30 a.m. in another city, and the drive was sure to be a few hours in itself. This and the calculation of getting her face and hair prepared, factors up to...  
"I have to wake up at about 6:00 a.m.," she mumbled, heading for her room, "I am so fucking tired that I'm surprised that I can see straight." She creaked her own door open. "Vegita better not still be awake. No way in Hell that he's going to get me to fool around tonight..."

* * *

Because of these DB eps, I've actually been getting ideas on Mebana, so I might end up taking it up soon. The major problem: there's almost definitely a rape scene. Although I assure it wouldn't be as bad as chapter 3 (everyone exhale), I didn't enjoy writing it that much, and you guys didn't seem to enjoy reading it. So, I'll probably be holding it off until I know how to handle it properly. So... who do you think his next target is?! points out the obvious 


	8. To Remain in Nescience

Disclaimer: In chapter one. Woo.  
  
I've finished a little page for you kids that are confused as sin about who the bloody Hell these OCs are. I'll be posting pictures of the characters on there, too. I'm drawing Jin right now. Here's the URL:  
  
piccylo. 8m. com/gvdoc. htm  
(take out the spaces to use it)  
  
In other news, I watched Farenheit 9/11. Whatever political views might be had around here, I must say that I liked it XD.  
Bush: -looks around like he's lost-  
Moore: Look! A goat!  
Bush: Ooo! It must have ties with Iraq!  
Anyway, enough of this. Time for fiction.

* * *

"Okay, dear. Tomorrow then. Yes, I love to you, too," she made a few kissing noises to the receiver before setting it down on the hook. Unlike Shuran, Keshou Uwaki's residence was legally hers. However, the terms of which she obtained them were no less scandalous. She was the harbored mistress of the local billionaire known as Daijin Fugeru, a married man with two kids. It's not uncommon for men and women to loose interest in their marriages after so many years, but when it comes down to it, holding a courtesan in her own lavish suite for an affair was much safer than going to the street for some average tart. Ergo, Uwaki had a purpose.  
She stretched out across her chaise lounge. "Sooo bored..." she said after she had her fill with the television. "I wish that there was more to do... this town just isn't as fun as it used to be." Staring at the ceiling, she now amused herself a bit with the turning fan and the moving shadows that it cast. Her mind came upon all of the parties that she had when she was younger (when she wasn't suffering from unemployment), and, even more memorable, the men with which she "associated". Of couse, she was thinking more of those men who could pass as magazine models and soap opera actors. Every man that she wanted, she had. At least, all except one.  
Before she could let her mind dwell too long on "the one that got away", she heard the buzzer. Uwaki rose and opened the door.  
"Message for you, ma'am," said a young lad with a ruddy complexion and round glasses. He passed a small, unmarked envelope into her hands.  
She looked at it with her head tilted. "Rather late for mail. Who is it from?"  
"Not sure. It just appeared on the front desk with a little post-it that had your room number on it."  
"Strange..." She inspected both sides of the note. "Well, they probably have a reason to not say who they are, ne? You are dismissed."  
The boy bowed his leave. Uwaki returned to her sofa before she slid her finger under the little flap and pushed it free. She pulled out a paper unfolded it. "Ma?"  
The only thing on the square sheet was the kanji symbol for "demon", encircled by a four-peaked, black aureole.  
  
"It wasn't entirely necessary for you to kill those two girls," Piccolo Daimaou commented as he followed his son, who was abound the rooftops, "but I guess it's for the best in the long run. Nothing wrong with getting a little bonus, I always say."  
"You always say a lot of things, Father. What did you do to me earlier?"  
The old Namek only hung lazily by Piccolo as he jumped from building to building. "Hmm... What do you mean?"  
"When you... passed into my body like that. It changed my appearance, didn't it?"  
Daimaou chuckled. "Indeed, it did change your guise a bit."  
"To what? And why?"  
"You didn't notice? Well, it's not quite my job to remind you of it at this point. Really, you should remember without it being handed to you."  
Piccolo made a scowl as he landed on a concrete flat. "You're talking in riddles, Father."  
"It appears that way, doesn't it?"  
  
The Son household sat in darkness, hidden in the black forest of Mt. Paozu. The interminable stillness and silence that ordained the space seemed to dissipate in a great crash and clamor. Two figures struggled in the black air to stand and reach a switch without knocking into everything. Finally, the room lit up with electricity and there stood Gohan and Goku amidst a mess of turned over furniture.  
"Otousan?" Gohan lowered his hand from the switch as Goku rubbed his eyes from the sudden change of atmosphere. "Why are you up?"  
Goku made one of his inane laughes. "I was going to ask the same thing!" His manner turned detectably more somber. "To tell you the truth, I'm having a hard time sleeping. Something just doesn't seem right in the air..."  
Gohan sat down for a minute. "I know what you mean. It's the same with me. I thought that I just felt that way because of how strangely Piccolo-san was acting today."  
Goku nodded. "Maybe he could tell, too?"  
"Maybe. Actually, I think that he knows what it is, but he didn't want to talk about it."  
"Really?" Son bowed his head in thought. "Hmm... what did he say?"  
Gohan shook his head. "Nothing that really made any sense. Most of it was along the lines of 'Go away'."  
"Well... I guess it's nothing to worry about."  
"Huh?"  
"I know, I don't think it's that easy either, but if something was wrong, I think Piccolo would tell us what it was."  
"..I suppose that you're right."  
"Now-" Goku went in the direction of the kitchen. "How about a midnight snack."  
"Sounds good!"  
  
Though the city was always alive, people did sleep at night in North Capital. Keshou Taifu didn't take long to fall onto her bed and surrender to slumber. Jokki Nama had dosed off over the paperwork that he wanted to get finished before he closed the bar (thankfully, his employees closed for him and left him with the keys). Mari Hein, like any good wife, was by her husband's side in the bed that they shared. Since such a live city was prone to crime, the police sirens' blaring as they went past towards the bleeding ragdoll of a man didn't wake them. Of course, one could say that Rushu Shuran also remained asleep:  
Even though the noise was all for him, he certainly was no longer among the awake.  
  
Fugeru was a bit perplexed when Uwaki ran to him so quickly when he entered the apartment. She immediately took shelter in his $3 grand, double- breasted jacket, finding comfort in the musty smell from the cigar tobacco that had percolated into the cloth. "What is with you, my dear?"  
She shivered and stifled the urge to cry, then brought him to a table and took the letter from it to him. "I just got that a half an hour ago. You recognize it, don't you?"  
He took out the paper and stared at the symbol. "Ma? That's awkward..."  
"Do you remember? I know, it was almost 20 years ago, but I'm sure you didn't forget about Piccolo Daimaou."  
"Oh yes... He had this on his shirt, didn't he? Well, I'm sure that it doesn't mean anything." He placed it back in the envelope. "Probably just some stupid kid, playing around." The letter went in the wastebasket. "Nothing to worry about, my dear Uwa-chan. I doubt Piccolo Daimaou has come back, and even if he did, I don't see why he would bother you."  
Uwaki looked down to the floor. "I wasn't thinking that. I thought that it might be some gang man that took that symbol and is planning to blackmail us."  
Fugeru's face turned serious. "That would pose a problem."  
"What will you do?"  
The man took a smug grin on his face. "Whatever it takes, my dear. Whatever it takes."

* * *

Daijin= Millionaire (it's not a name; its a description) Fugeru is a composite of several words (having to do with money). Jokki= beer mug. Since Mari and her husband are not Japanese, surname comes last. Hein is Vietnamese, and means "meek and gentle".  
Note: When Uwaki said "almost 20", it was actually 25 years. Another put down towards her stupidity (or vainity, depending on how you look at it). 


	9. Greenback Embers and Golden Sin

**Disclaimer:** .eno retpahc ni s'tI

I bet you guys thought that I died or something, didn't ya! Well, Jin and Uwaki's pictures are on the page, and I'm in college now, so inspiration will probably come crashing in, along with a tight schedule.

Anyway, it's pretty obvious that this chapter is the climax. Everybody knows what's going to happen, and some might have brought some popcorn to enjoy the show.

* * *

Fugeru didn't think that he'd be taking such a risk that night. Really, his going there without any notice in any direction that he wasn't going to be home on time wasn't the safest thing to go through. He did it, of course, for the sake of jolting his mistress with an unannounced appearance, but she was more frightened than pleasantly surprised. Now, he couldn't bear to leave her alone; she was too shaken to not protect in some form. So, he took a few more even larger gambles, calling his wife on his cell phone to tell her that he wouldn't be home that night, then taking it upon himself to answer the door at all times. He could be seen, but right now, it didn't seem to matter.  
  
Uwaki was in her bathroom, now, taking a bath, while he remained in the front room. She was still rather shaken up, and she decided that the only thing that could calm her down is to spend some time relaxing. The gnawing, still air around Fugeru finally got to him and he picked up the remote control. He pressed a button and the TV blinked on, the voice of some announcer gradually coming into existence like the sound of a siren coming closer. Fugeru began shifting through the channels for nothing particular. He just wanted movement and noise of some sort in the room; anything to keep the atmosphere from being so eerily stagnant.  
  
Fugeru didn't take long to feel restless, so he took the phone up and called for room service to bring in some champagne for himself and his mistress. It looked ridiculous in his eyes that, although he was a wealthy man, he seemed bound to not have anything to occupy all of this dead time before him. Some punks were keeping him from doing anything that could jeopardize his lover, as well as his own position. He planned to surprise Uwaki and take her out to the nightclub and call his wife there, saying that he had to go out with a business associate. That situation wouldn't have been risky since everyone at that nightclub knew his little secret and kept it well.  
  
Now, he has to calm her down and watch his shadow, just because of a gang brat.  
  
He flipped through the channels again, then came upon a live report. A black woman, wearing bright red, kept a detached face as she spoke into the microphone.  
  
"The News Channel 15 Van is at the scene of three recent killings. A body was first discovered on a balcony on the 32nd floor of this hotel a little after midnight. The body, identified as one Rushu Shuran, was determined to have had his spine _broken in half _after suffering many wounds from what appears to be a letter opener. The other two bodies were of two women, probably courtesans of Mr. Rushu, and have yet to have been identified. Their deaths were both by means of stabbing with the letter opener, and there are no suspects as of yet to who might have committed these murders. I have with me Mr. Boujin, the man who first discovered the bodies. Sir, how did you first notice the body?"  
  
"Well, I was walking down the sidewalk, coming back from the store since I had to buy something to eat and I just noticed that my refrigerator was empty. Anyway, I was walking, and right when I was under the balcony, I heard a woman scream and--"  
  
There was a knock on the door. Fugeru nearly grabbed his gun from his vest pocket out of fear.  
  
"Sir?" came a young voice from the other side, "I'm here with the champagne."  
  
Fugeru coughed and stood, straightening his clothes out as if to brush away the anxiety. "Bring it in," he ordered after he opened the door. The boy picked up the bucket on the whicker tripod containing ice and the bottle and placed it in the middle of the room, heaving a sigh before he faced his costumer and passed him the bill.  
  
The billionaire signed it with the tip and was about to send the boy on his way. "Ah, wait. You've forgotten the glasses."  
  
"Oh. Very sorry, sir. I'll get them immediately."  
  
The service left again and Fugeru returned to the macabre story on the television.  
  
Boujin was still talking. "It was so weird. I couldn't tell that what was dripping on me was blood from the body at the time. I saw something large, about the size of a large man, jump out and practically glide to the building across the street. I followed it until it disappeared among the rooftops. Then I looked back, and that was the first time that I had a good look at the body. As soon as I saw it, I froze. Then, I checked my face and started to wipe the blood off of my face out of panic. I was thinking like maybe the police would think that it was me because I was covered with the guys blood and--"  
  
"I'm sorry," the reporter interrupted, "I have to stop you there. I just got word that we are about to go to break. May I ask about that figure you saw. Do you think that it was the killer?"  
  
"I don't know. It could have been. But what could jump such a distance like that? No Human, that's for sure, but this does look like something that a Demon would do."  
  
Commercials came. Some couple talking about life insurance took over the screen. Another knock came at the door. "Room service. I brought your glasses, sir."  
  
"All right," Fugeru answered the door again, opening just in time to see the bellboy get impaled with a hand through his stomach.

Uwaki stepped out of the bathroom into the warm glow of her bedroom, feeling refreshed and much more at ease. She rubbed the towel on her head a little more before pulling it off and allowing her hair to fall down on her robe, then settled on the edge of her bed and grabbed a comb to work out any kinks that she might have gotten. The plastic teeth had just entered the strands when she heard a man screaming something.

"Honey..?" She cracked the door open and peered out into the front room. Her lover, Fugeru, had the look of alarm scratched onto his face towards a tall, long haired man with a familiar goatee.

He looked at the door as he dropped the bellhop's body. "Well, this is the room. 506," he looked back at Fugeru, "but nothing about you sparks any memory or feelings. I felt a gnawing, under-the-surface hate towards that man I killed, but there's nothing towards you," he said in a rather detached, analytic tone.

The upscale man was going through a state of panic. This person was not a gang member, he thought, and he killed a man? Did _he _kill that man at the hotel? _"--but this does look like something a Demon would do."_ That bystander's quote went through his head.

"...Ma," he muttered at length. His hand finally moved, and he stepped back, his shoulders allowing him to reach into his vest pocket and... find nothing. He rushed his vision back towards the sitting place by the television. The colt had fallen to the floor when he grasped for it earlier.

"What are you looking at?" Piccolo called Fugeru's attention to him again. "I don't feel like hanging around, so I'm going to make this quick..." He stepped forward.

Fugeru retreated a few paces and shot his hand towards the champagne. He took the bottle by its neck and smashed the end off on the nearest hard surface, causing the green glass and its contents to explode upon the thick rug. He held it out in as threatening a manner as he could muster. "Don't think that you can knock me off and get away unscathed! I'll cut you up like a drunk in a bar would a guy that's hitting on his woman!"

Piccolo chuckled. "Oh yeah! I almost forgot what that looked like. It's really funny when all three of them are drunk, as I remember..." Then an unusual feeling washed over him. Where did he see that before? He felt that it might have an odd connection with what he's doing and that dream before...

Fugeru witness the attacker's eyes showing distraction, and took his chance. He lunged forward and forced the jagged material towards the man's chest. It was swapped out of his grasp with relative ease. It rolled over by the ajar bedroom door, leaving a pooling trail of champagne along the way.

Uwaki's brain was in such a scrambled state that she didn't think of calling the police immediately. She rushed to the phone in her chamber and picked up the receiver. All that she could hear is static, and lots of it. She tried dialing the police, but their voices were so incoherent that she was uncertain of what they were saying, and hung up. Since the penthouse was old, some of the wiring was a little shoddy, and her chamber phone was never right. The phone in the front room was the primary phone, but she'd have to get past that man.

The moment that she looked back out to see his current position was the moment that she would witness her lover's death. His skull was bashed in with one hit. His body fell backwards, half of his face a bloody indention, his eyes, wide and dead, looking to Uwaki. She stopped her squeal of fear with her hands and instinctively retreated back to escape the image. She knocked over an end table in the process, causing a lit oil lamp and a photo album to fall forward.

The oil lamp had gone out the door and reached the champagne, immediately catching the rug on fire, but she payed no mind. The album had opened to her days when she worked in her uncle's bar, and the picture of the infiltrating man was staring back at her. The same hair; the same beard; he didn't even gain one line from age on his face.

Being surrounded by flames so suddenly confused Piccolo for a moment. He saw no reason for the place to catch on fire like that until he caught sight of the oil lamp by the door. As he walked to it, he heard a scream break through the crackling of fire. It was a woman's scream. He opened the door to see who he really had to kill.

Uwaki's panicked face broke from the pictures to the man himself. Her involuntary scream had warned him of her presence, and she found that she could not scream again. The demonic man... Dorai Berumotto... was framed by the orange flames that were taking over the front room.

The cold, uncaring look on his face allowed a grin to grow upon it. He cracked his knuckles and leaned down to her. "You're the one that I'm supposed to kill, aren't you?" A guttural laugh came from his throat. "This makes much more since. You're appearance actually makes me want to twist your head off." Another laugh warned that this was his intention.

The few pitiful whimpers that she could make were very staccato and barely audible. She tried to move back, but her sudden stiffness didn't allow much mobility. Dorai's manner was as stoic as it had ever been, but it had an air of madness that she couldn't escape. It didn't really add up. He hadn't changed in all those years. He was even wearing the same uniform. What did it mean? Is he symbolizing something to her for her death? But he didn't even seem to remember who she was. She grasped around frantically for an answer, and, suddenly, what seemed most likely rolled across her tongue before she even thought it.

"Did she die?"

She couldn't say more than that, and she didn't have to. Dorai was struck in such a way that he stopped. His eyes were wide, even dilated. He wasn't even looking at her anymore; he was looking through her. Even now, the flames were licking his heals, and he didn't budge. Uwaki knew that this was her chance to run away, but she only managed to tumble backwards.

Her head flopped back to face the window, which was the only thing that wasn't bathed in the orange light of the fire. Lights; buildings; telephone wires; and stars above them all. She knew that no matter how much she didn't want to die, it would be futile to run. Even if she was able to flee, there would be nothing left. Her life was pathetic, and would become only more so. This was the first time that she realized this, and the first time that she cried over it.

Another scream came from her before she knew why she was screaming. She sat up and saw that her arms had both been twisted and broken. Dorai dug into one of her shoulders and threw her into the front room; into the fire. It enveloped her and spread upon her skin and robe, causing both to darken and smoke before her very eyes. Her hair was curling into disgusting, black stubbles; her blood broke through her skin like water through dry cracks; her fingernails burned in odd colors from the polish as the fire singed them back further and further. However, she would not burn to death. It didn't take long before those large hands clasped upon her skull and threw her into blackness with a harsh, noisy twist.

Taifu woke suddenly to a soft rain pattering the glass pane. Uwaki continued her own soft rain of sweat, blood, and tears that fell upon the carpet below her severed head.

* * *

Door open, door close. Damn, that's annoying. I can't word it any other way that would sound right! And why the Hell won't the bloody thing make paragraphs?!

Oh yeah... the reason that Piccolo isn't remembering... Well, past the fact that he's going insane, it was a long time ago... about 16 years, and last time that it crossed his mind was about 10 years ago. Normally, someone with this many hints on it could remember something even that long ago past the subconscious level, however, this requires the ability to hold a train of thought. Like I said: he's going crazy.


	10. Spectrum of Celebrating Youth

**Disclaimer: **It's in chapter one. _Man_, it's been forever since I typed that!

I'm finally in the groove of things and getting inspiration for my works. However, I'm now writing on a limited schedule. College life might have a lot of space between some of the classes, but it doesn't mean that these classes don't come with high maintenence.

So, you can probably see more chapters coming up. I know that the last chapter took months (rather literally), but even with my tight schedule, I'm sure that I can handle putting out chapters much more often.

Now, If I can only have some bloody paragraph indentions!

* * *

Piccolo looked at the wallet with a little bit of confusion before he set it down on the sink and began to wash the blood off his hands.

"Good thing that fat millionaire didn't burn up before you could get his money," his father mused as he leaned back on the outer wall of the bathtub. As he was ordered, Piccolo snatched the wallet from Fugeru's pocket before abandoning the place and coming to an apartment bathroom. Piccolo didn't feel like asking his father why these steps were necessary. He didn't really feel like speaking.

The old Daimaou seemed to expect this. "You'll be in more stable mind after a while. Right now, especially with all this information, you feel a bit overwhelmed. You know that the information is significant, but you can't do anything to completely grasp it right now." He gestured over to the wallet. "It contains a lot of money and several credit and debit cards. You might feel a little awkward going to an ATM, but you're going to need a lot of bills."

Piccolo looked at him and turned off the faucet. After a moment of contemplating something to say, he only nodded in agreement.

Nition's girlfriend actually lived near the hotel, so Taifu decided that it wouldn't be too unethical to get him instead of the other way around. It looked like his girlfriend was still making food, since she was holding a bottle of milk in one hand and still wearing her pajamas.

Keshou apologized for coming so early. "Is Nition awake, yet?"

"Just a moment," the girl turned to the short hall in her living quarters. "Iggy! Could you come here?"

Taifu giggled a little bit, and Nition came out, wearing only boxers, then made an unusual squeak when he saw his employer at the door. He ducked back into the bedroom and tilted out halfway. "Keshou-san! You're... rather early."

She giggled again. "I know. I'm very sorry, 'Iggy', but I thought that I could meet your significant other before I go meet with my business associate, maybe even go down to my brother's pub for a bit if you feel up to it."

He blinked. "Is it even open at this hour?"

"Sometimes. Really, it depends on the time of year."

Before Nition's girlfriend could invite Taifu to sit down, Taifu's cell phone blared. "I'm sorry. Just a moment." She took it from her purse and pushed the button. "Moshi moshi!-- This is she...Yes. What about her?" Although she spoke no more words, her complexion became ashen before she dropped the phone.

Bulma was hardly able to drag herself from the bed when the alarm went off. Of course, the buzzing sent Vegita into a growling fit before he got up and went to the gravity room for his ante-breakfast training. These mornings were always hectic, or at least obnoxious.

At the bottom of the stairs, she rubbed her eyes a bit, again. Her mother had the main room lit up brightly and the curtains pulled back to let morning light in. She tried to compile a list of her morning activities before she noticed a tall figure at the door. Walking up, she still had trouble trying to see the person in the bright light until she opened the door and looked straight at him. "Piccolo?"

For a moment, something looked like it moved near by him, but she supposed that it was just a tree waving. He walked towards her, his arms still crossed, and gave a nod to accommodate a greeting.

Bulma tugged the collar of her night shirt a bit. "Is there something that you want to be here at this time of morning?"

"Yes. It's something that I had to get done as soon as possible."

Bulma got out of the lab later than she expected, but it didn't matter now. The answering machine picked up a message that the meeting was cancelled, and that she would get another call later to explain the reasons. Hopefully, the phone call would provide a rescheduling. It's been very difficult for her to get an open slot at the same time as her affiliate's, so they rarely got to get together.

When she got the call later that day, she felt shocked that her affiliate, Keshou Taifu, had lost her daughter. It turns out that their only free slot was on the girl's funeral date. Whether it was a sad twist of fate, or a grasp towards luck, Bulma was entirely fine with trying to help Taifu with her grief. She knew that she would feel great pain if Trunks died suddenly (and this came very close several times).

Speak of the Devil, the little torrent came down the stairs with Goten and immediately chanted for breakfast. She smiled and tapped her forehead lightly. _That's right. It's Goten's birthday. Sympathy has to wait till later._

The kids had a blast at Goten's surprise party. They ran around all over Mt. Paozu and played games with Goten's new toys from Gyuu-maou and other family and friends. However, some of the adults were oddly sullen. The one that you would expect to be sullen wasn't there, and it worried Gohan and Goku more than was comfortable. Furthermore, Bulma was giving off enough bad vibes to put them on edge. She was acting like someone had just died or something.

Chi-chi, not having anymore of the eerie silence, finally questioned the group, "What's wrong with you guys? It's Goten's 8th birthday! Can't you be a little more jolly?"

Bulma bowed her head a bit. "I apologize, Chi-chi. I just found out that the daughter of a business associate died last night. I told you that I wasn't originally going to come because I was going to a meeting with that associate, but she had to cancel."

"That's awful. I hope that she copes well." Chi-chi chattered a little bit on it with her and then passed her glare over towards her boys. "And what is _your _excuse for being so gloomy?"

Goku and Gohan snapped out of their quiet attitudes like from a trance and just grinned at her. They didn't really want to explain the whole situation with Piccolo and the weird air that just seemed to flank them at all sides.

Taifu stood rather alone by the rectangle hole that Uwaki's coffin was suspended over. Very few people came to the funeral, and most of them came more to give their condolences to Taifu rather than to bid Uwaki a farewell into the next life. Nama stood by her right, silent and still. Bulma and Nition kept a few steps away, trying to think of some way to speak with her. Mari, who had been bid to come by Nama, fell back the farthest from her, looking nervous and shaking slightly with her uncomfortable sadness, wanting dearly to be able to retreat to her absent husband's arms.

Keshou Taifu kept the most still. She didn't bow her head or let a single sound escape her. Her eyes only looked forward, and scarcely seemed to blink. Even after the priest said his words and left, she didn't move. It was a while before Nama and Mari retreated, and even Nition ended up announcing that he would wait for her in the car. Bulma forced herself to remain and step forward to speak to her.

"Was she a good daughter?" she finally broke "she must have been pretty humble to have so few people come."

"No. She wasn't humble at all. She was selfish, conceited, and rather rude."

Bulma blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I know what you're thinking. 'How can she speak in such a way of her own daughter after she has died?' It's quite simple, really. It's the truth."

"Do you suppose that someone that hated her did this?"

"Obviously. Her body was broken, burned, and decapitated."

"Do you have any idea who?"

Taifu nodded. "Several years ago, there was this young couple that worked in my brother's bar. The night before they left, a gang leader's corpse was found decapitated--"

"But, that could just be coincidence--"

"The police saw the killers. A man and a woman, their description fitting the couple to the smallest detail. Moreover," she finally turned her head to face Bulma, "I saw his head."

"You saw it? Why didn't you say anything?"

Her eyes turned back forward. "At the time, I thought it was fake, and even after I found out that it was real, I didn't know where they went."

"But why would they kill your daughter?"

"They both hated her guts. She constantly hit on the man, and she had a rivalry with the woman. And, to wrap things up, a lot of the killings that night was similar to what happened to Uwaki and Shuran."

"Shuran?"

"A man that they also hated. He pretty much had the same situation with them. He was killed the same night as Uwaki."

Bulma involuntarily shivered in the following silence. She finally couldn't stand the morose feeling any longer and took her leave without another word.

The bag with the head rolled around in the closet of the ship every time there was a shock from Piccolo's training. He wasn't sure if the sound that it made should annoy or amuse him. But it was certainly a distraction, and his father finally told him to quit for the day.

"Training _is _more important than ever, but you have to rest. You might have noticed your mind becoming more coherent already. After you have a good amount of sleep, you'll be functioning better than you have been for months."

Piccolo broke his meditating position and released a heavy breath. "Very well, but I still don't understand why I have to completely leave Earth."

"I'll explain it in your sleep--" He was momentarily interupted by a sour glare on his son's face. "--after that, you won't see me again for a long while. I will only be hindering the process."

"Lovely. I can finally be alone." He went to the sleeping quarters and shut the door behind him.

The old Daimaou chuckled. "Soon, in more ways than one."

* * *

I finally finished it! Woohoo! I was wanting to make more chapters after Uwaki's death, but, Hell, I don't think that I can handle it. Anyway, I will get another sequal out after this (you guys must be groaning). The next one will be... the 3rd sequal, and I'm still thinking about doing the Mebana prequal. _A Iesu Christo!_ It cannot be escaped (atleast by me, anyway)! 


End file.
